Scene #450:

Owner	Pose
Marrik	Yesterday was, in a word, crazy. Marrik was no fighter, yet not only did he summon an army but he also fought and personally killed several people. He had been walking, trying to clear his head after this clicked with the Mages being constructed beings. At some point he found himself at an outdoor cafe sipping tea while eyeing the bermucian serving girl. He didn't activly flirt with her, but he liked what he saw, and likely would be hearing much rage squeaking from Faruja if he noticed this. They did need to have that talk after all.
Faruja	Faruja couldn't have /dreamed/ of such a resounding victory. The people are shaken, to be sure. But the seemingl invincible Alexandrian army beaten back is a boon to the lives of those who have lost so much. For the first time in so very long, there's a small hint of hope in the lives of those found here. This renewed hope doesn't stop the Inquisitor from glaring at Marrik as he eyes up a burmecian lady. "AHEM!" Comes Faruja, having teleported in behind the man. Glaaaaare! "Methinks we hath business, Ser Marrik." Squint!
Marrik	Marrik jumped at the sudden noise and coughed, "Of course. Tea's on the way." Marrik flushed in embarrassment as he nudged a chair for the templar. "So..." Deep breath. "You're the one that wanted to talk, ask and you'll get no lies." Soft voice as he tried focusing on the situation at hand. The dead were quiet and he had managed to shut them out so he could focus on the here and now.
Faruja	Faruja sits, the rat nodding. "Well. First of all, thine intentions: state it plain, what doth ye intend to do with such...abilities." He, of course, isn't about to outright say what they are. He too would end up in a noose. "Second, what is to be done regarding them? Nay matter thine intentions, which thus far I must admit seem benevolent enough, ye skirt a dangerous line that mine less...thoughtful colleagues wouldst seize upon swiftly. Doth ye possess other talents? Such as thine...more martial talents." Punching through skulls is pretty impressive, but /legal/.
Marrik	"My brawling is also based mostly off of my magic, kenetic force with my fists as focus point," Marrik sounded almost sad to have to burst your bubble on that. "Nothing more I am afraid." He smiled warmlg to the waitress that brought tea and sandwiches and, after tipping her, sighed. "I have a few generalist spells; mending simple items, stain removal, firestarting, but what I'd poured a lot of research into was crops." He sipped his tea and nodded approvingly before going into full on lecture mode. "I can make what amounts to sunlight, accelerate growth, quick decay material for fertilizer, and it is a thing a couple of my friends, possibly the only two others in the coven that wanted to try finding positive uses, helped me find a less... gruisome method of fueling." More tea consumed ass he gave Faruja tie to diguest before continuing. This was going to take awhile and doubtlessly Faruja would have questions.
Faruja	The Burmecian grits his teeth. "...A shame." the rat, too, seems sad. It could've been an easy way out of a rather sticky situation. Siiip. Nom sandwich. food helps in thinking. "But nothing offensive. While I cannot fault such spells, 'tis the source that worries me. Ye art capable of thine particular school of magic, and naught else? Bluntly, ser, if ye art to continue to operate within Ivalice I must simply hath thine word that ye shan't resort to...more flagrant displays of such powers. Ye skirt a very, very thin line. Already, once, ye nearly fell over it. The use of light, turning undead, bloody abyss, even using kinetic magic to enhance unarmed strikes art all legal."
Marrik	"It is more power than application, but that is also a problem." Marrik breathed slow to try calming his nerves, trying to push away the mental image of being tied to a stake with wood being piled at his feet. "I need Life to work with. Most have taken the easy destructive path and done the classical thing and murder. Min stumbled on a treatis written a century or so back about harvesting from your own body repairing itself from general wear." Teasip as he looked the inquisitor over carefully. "However it is a bare trickle compared to an open spout. I can generally get by exterminating vermin since pests, fungus, weeds, and the like are everywhere, but again not the same kind of power. Yesterday was a rare case where I could draw freely. So limited source of power I intentionally avoid the best method of renewal and on top of that spells need to be tailored to fit the differences in power plus I have only been practicing for a few years."
Faruja	Faruja doesn't bother hiding his disgust at Marrik's admission. A hand twitches, and goes for his robes. In a rare bout of self-awareness, the rat has left his gun back home. Grrrrr. Deep breath. "I suppose 'tis a far better choice than the alternative. And, not /expressly/ illegal." A shake of the head. Does he really /need/ to make the old slippery slope speech. Sigh. "Well. I cannot outright arrest ye, given mine position as Diplomat to the Union. All I ask is that ye be /subtle/. Keep us both out of a pyre, hmm? Thine works make me extremely uncomfortable. That is...I appreciate what ye hath done. But means is as important as results." "Then ye art more powerful in the presence of spirits. And ye doth not call them against thier will?"
Marrik	"I am able to draw the life from things dying," Marrik stated sourly. "It is what it is and unlike the people that hoped to use me I do not like murder." Another slow measured breath to try remaining calm in the face of obviously on edge templar. "I know other thimgs. Rituals of binding and warding of places and objects. I can stremgthen or take control of existing.... creatures, and I can pull the corruption from things, lands, people...." He put his hands flat on the table, where faruja might see a slight tremor. "But it is dangerous to pull or shield corruption since it needs to go somewhere, and if I have no proper vessal or it cannot contain it, guess where it all goes."
Faruja	Faruja folds his hands together before him, thinking. Not some time ago, he'd have already tried to kill the man. Now? He /owes/ Marrik. Twice over. And it digs into the rat's morality. The worst part is, the man sounds like he's telling the truth. It all may very well be something he was forced into. Could he truly kill an innocent man? "...Well then." Deep breath. He owes the man. "I shall give ye a choice. the first, being I disavow ever knowing of thine powers, and leave thee to whatever fate ye may or may not find in Ivalice." He pauses dramatically, sipping his tea calmly. "And the second, being that ye join my organization as a Penitent Exorcist. We shall...gloss over the particulars of thine abilities, however, 'twould allow ye to operate with a minimum of safety. Should ye remain cautious, mayhaps ye may do some good. And furthermore, mayhaps we may be able to find ye a less...controvertial...method of acquiring the power ye need. As well as bountiful 'containers', and proper ways to be rid of them."
Marrik	A pickle of a choice. Join a church he had next to no knowledge of, or effectively go back to square zero and not just risk his own life, but all that might be because he wasn't there. Marrik chewed on his sandwich thoughtfully. "I have questions of my own Sir Knight." Marrik's voice was soft as he considered things. He had gotten rushed into one thing without considering the consequences once. "They say once burned twice look again. Nothing personal but you can understand wanting to show a little care before rushing in." Plus Faruja struck him as a moderate in an organization of extremists. "I am not saying no, just.... questions."
Faruja	Faruja /smiles/ at the mention of questions. "Good to know ye art nay a fool. Please. Ask all ye like." Offers the rat far too welcomingly. This is the look of a man who knows he has Marrik in quite the situation. Leave it to an Ivalician. "We believe in the existance of a single supreme being, whom goes by many names. We primarily know him as Faram. Other regions? Allah, Yahweh, God. We believe in charity to the poor, uplifting those whom others forget within the stratified social norms of Ivalician society, as well as spreading knowledge of the word of The Divine Son, and our religion's founder, Saint Ajora Glabados. We art the only accepted religion in Ivalice, and our advisors art found within every single noble House in Ivalice." Explains the rat. "More relevent to ye, however, so too art we a militant Church. Many dark and evil things threaten Ivalice; unquiet spirits, monsters, Cultists whom attempt to call upon Fell forces. Nevermind the evils of men, that ye hath already seen. The Inquisition works as a force to ensure that the most base laws against Heresy, and the regulation of the gift of magic given by Faram, art upheld throughout Ivalice, for the sake of the souls within. I shan't lie to ye. If ye join, ye shall be plunged into the depths of both the failings of men high and low, as well as dark abominations. 'Tis a chance, however, to help heal and preserve a dieing, rotten country, Ser Marrik. Ivalice is a land cursed in this age. And 'tis up to men of power and means to solve its problems."
Marrik	"I can help banish or turn aside those that cannot be reasoned with," Marrik sounded thoughtfully. "You say this world is dying. What from?" A curious question to be sure. Was it a mrtaphorical the kingdoms are decidant and will fall, or the physical world is running down? A moment before he spoke again. "How do you think I was recruited? They told me the land was sick, dying, and needed to be cleared if we were to have any hope for a future." He kept his hands on the table pressed down against it. "Please do not take that as insult. Opposing tyrants, punching things eating children or blighting crops appeals greatly to my sensibilities." Sip from his tea cup before continuing, "Not because I like hurting things. I just don't feel neither lords nor monsters have right to bully people just trying to get by in the world." Then he looked down at his boots as if hoping ants would spell out some form of guidance for him and chuckled soft at the foolishness. "You asked about my getting spirits to willingly help. Feel the same way with people. I have power enough to put boot to my neighbor to force them to do what I want, but that does not give the right." Which is why he disliked Alexandria, no matter who started the fighting on top of what he had found out about the Black Mages. "The offer is tempting, but any profession of faith at this point would be hollow and worse than dishonest. If this church has more people like you and fewer shoot first let Farem sort things out sorts I would find it enjoyable." A dramatic pause of his own before he added, "I do not put stock in faith at the point of a sword though and in a perfect world the sword would lay long rusted or beat into plow sheers."
Faruja	A nod. "Between the Fifty Years War, and the current conflicts? Ye hath seen the results." It may well be one of the main reasons Faruja's even entertaining the idea. Faruja smirks. "More than I may speak of to those whom art not within mine service." he states, looking into the man's eyes. Faruja then continues. "Ivalice's nobility cares little for her children. They use every method to advance themselves against the needs of her people, as the Crown turns a blind eye. Archadia and Alexandria alike hunger for the whole of Ivalice at once. And the Dukes Larg and Goltanna art barely kept from open civil war for the sake of the Crown's succession. So too art there deeper problems. However, if ye wish to assist with those, I shall needst to trust ye beyond any doubt." He waves a hand. "Nay. I require nay declaration of faith. Merely thine word that ye shall assist me in helping this blighted land. There art plenty of tasks that, methinks, ye shall find pleasing when set to them. We art a diverse Church. Ye hath particularly 'open' persons, nearly as much as those within the 'Light of Kiltias' sect. Then there art htose as mineself. And then, ye hath Inquisitor Cecilia. Avoid her. I shan't bore ye with Inquisitorial politics until it becomes relevent." Hand raise. "But in /mine/ service, ye shall be surrounded with those whom hath certain peculiarities. Methinks ye shall fit in well."
Marrik	Ah, comprehension dawned on Marrik's face at hearing the nobility was essentially worse than useless. "Wouldn't plan any sort of overthrows or assassinations, but sounds like the stuffed shirts will see few if any tears shed when they pass on." It saddened him, but life is what it is. "Just so we're clear I do not enjoy using zombies, but as you've seen I will." He finished his tea and leaned forward. "What I refuse to do is use desease as a weapon. It is far from precice, too tempting to lean on when it can get out of hand, and i only study it so I know how to target and kill what causes it. Fair enough?"
Faruja	Faruja waves a hand. "Far too messy. I prefer using mine authority in a less...messy manner. Justifications make it far easier to get things done in Ivalice." Scowl! "Bloody right ye shall not be! Perish the thought!" Disease? He'd shoot Marrik himself. A nod. "Fine. I trust ye to be discrete."
Marrik	"I only get flashy if there is no other way." Marrik used his sandwich as pointer, "better to help unblight crops and maybe jumpstart the harvest than have to send armed men in. Win over the people and reduce your costs down to a smaller peacekeeping force. Plus the removal of voles and other pests," he was very careful to avoid saying rats given preasent company, "would greatly help on its own. Or with other situations, as you'd heard, I do not worry about needing to show personal strength." Best part? Though it was a slow way to draw power with himself as battery not even a seal from the outside would leave him powerless
Ziggy Grover	Meanwhile, Ziggy, having been unable to contact Dr. K recently due to a slight, teensy weensy mishap with his suit (namely, boots teleported, rest of suit didn't, and his energy cells that helped power his morphers were... gone), was entering the cafe. He'd managed to beg off a few Ivalice-style clothing, and as a consequence, looked like a would-be priest-initiate. Why he was doing this, was, of course, that he'd reconsidered hanging around with the THUNDEROUS look on Faruja's face... and he hadn't, er, been able to find his way back to the Union base just yet. So... "Alms for the poor, alms for the poor..." Ziggy says, holding out a little tin cup. This lasts all of a second until he spies a very familiar face. Uh... yes. Time to turn around and start walking away realllllly fast...
Faruja	Faurja smiles here. "Mayhaps so. However, if ye let the root of the problem continue, then they shall simply escape to harm another village. One cannot be soft upon such criminals, cruel at times though the Inquisition may appear. There /art/ merits to such an approach in the initial stages of investigation and cleanup after a Heretic." A small nod. "'Tis not about flashy shows of strength. 'Tis about finding criminals, and seeing that justice is done. The means and methods art a slightly lesser concern." Faruja yawns slightly, and looks away. Pause. That man is familiar. Far too familiar. Slowly, a scowl forms, flesh beneath fur going red. "WHAT IN THE BLOODY ABYSS ART YE WEARING, ZIGGY GROVER!?" Great part about being a time mage? One moment you're in a chair sipping tea. The next, all five feet of rat-mage is glaring right into Ziggy's face with no warning other than a blue flash of teleportation magic. Unlike Ziggy, it happens to be a talent of his.
Dillon	Dr. K's moods were generally somewhere between 'glacier' and 'exploding landmine' but the last several days she's had her tongue set on 'flense' and even Rangers Red and Yellow had gotten verbal chastenings for interrupting her. This morning, though, she was sweet. Dillon did not trust this at all. His instinct was correct; a smugly grinning Flynn, Ranger Blue, was wiping his greasy hands on a shop towel while leaning his backside on Dillon's precious, precious baby. "OFF MY CAR," he growled. Well, growl isn't quite right. His teeth were clenched when he said it anyway. "Oh, there you are, Ranger Black," Dr. K's voice came, from INSIDE his car. "I am just finishing a final adjustment... there." Dillon pushed Flynn off the car, and leaned down to see ... "What's that?" "If you are referring to the Quantum Chromodynamic Displacement Engine," Dr. K said, replacing the cover on the strange little purple monstrosity that was taking up his cargo space, "It's not a 'that', it's a retrieval device." "OK? Retrieving what? Why?" "Ranger Operator Series Green has been missing, and his uniform has recently rematerialized in the charging booth." Dillon slapped the palm of his right hand to his forehead. "Why my car? Why not use Red, or Blue? The Hummer..." "Rangers Red, Yellow, and Blue are still capable of forming a megazord. You are not. Ranger Green is your partner. Go. Fetch." Dillon sighed, glowering. "How does it work?" "Simply accelerate to 88 miles per hour, and the tracer," and she handed him a rather cute hello-kitty looking locket, "will find him." Then she beamed at him, almost like a normal happy person instead of the scary genius monster. "Right, uh, going now I guess." "Take these," Dr. K said, handing him several energy cells, green in color. "He'll need them." Dillon sighed, and started his engine, revving... the black Firebird roared. He slotted the kitty-thing in the paws of the purple monkey -- it looked like a monkey, dammit -- and he drove out to the expressway that surrounded Corinth. A flash of dark-purple-blue and a trail of flame, and he found himself braking to keep from running into an outdoor cafe. The "kitty tracer" pinged, and he shook his head, looking around for the ... Oh. There he is. Right in the middle of trouble.
Ziggy Grover	Hands going up, Ziggy darts a look this way, then that way. That he was facing a very angry, large, rat mage with the ability to better control his teleportation... "Oh hi there, uh, Faruja. Nice teleportation. I see you've got that fine-tuned very, very well." Hands goes to his chest, and Ziggy lifts the cloth away from him, peering at it as though it were a piece of merchandise. "Oh this... these were robes. I managed to talk some people into loaning me some clothes. I mean, you wouldn't want me to go around wearing nothing but underpants, would you?" Hands fumble around the robes, followed by Ziggy dropping the robes quickly, holding up a hand in a 'wait a minute' gesture. "Now, before you start bristling those whiskers at me, I just wanted to note, I have a very strict code against killing. Both against other people, and against -me-, particularly, you understand, don't you...? And uh, you're not allowed to punch union allies, right? So, um... could you do an ally a favor and point me back towards the Union base?" And then Ziggy starts, drawing back, turning and lifting one foot as though it would help him from getting run over, before blinking. "Oh yes! Dillon! Boy, am I glad to see you!" So glad, indeed, that he puts his hands right on the hood of Dillon's car. A condition that's immediately rectified by drawing his hands back QUICKLY and acting like he didn't even touch Dillon's PRECIOUS, PRECIOUS baby...
Faruja	Smiiiiile! Faruja may well look almost like a shark, with all of those sharp pointy teeth that are on display. "Remind me, and mayhaps I aught impart a few lessons upon that. Hath ye ever seen what happens when one teleports into a wall?" There might be a threat somewhere in there. Twitch. Faruja's brow all but vibrates in irritation, but the young man has a point. "Ye hath caused me enough headaches. I am /not/ bailing ye out of the local jail for indecency." Sigh. Fine, he'll let it go. Then, slowly, his face softens. He looks Ziggy over, and then quite simply bonks the young man on the side of the head with his cane. "/That/ is for nearly getting thyself killed for the sake of a murderer! Consider thyself chastised. I shan't fault ye for thine convictions, Ser Grover. I appreciate what ye hath done for mine people. Make nay mistake. However, Ivalice is a most rotten and twisted place at times. Methods of cleansing her art oft seemingly cruel. Remember that." A moment, and there's an honest smile. "...Ye art a good young gentleman. The nearest Warp Gate is two towns over to the east. Mention that Inquisitor Senra hath sent ye upon an errand, and ye shall be admitted with a minimum of disturbance." Then, he hands Ziggy an envelope addressed to a 'Fayt Ravus'. Inside? Various orders for wood and stone. "I trust it shall arrive to the Union postal service promptly." Then, there's a bloody car in the city. Squeaking in alarm, the rat teleports over to the cafe. Gravity magic flares, and there's a wall of force trying to slow down the car! "OH BY THE LORD, THIS CITY HATH ONE DAY OF PEACE! WHAT ART YE DOING, KNAVE!?" Yells the exasperated rat at Dillon. A glance to ziggy. "Ye know this one!?"
Dillon	(Gravity magic! Well, that explains how he was able to brake so well on a not-great road.) Dillon stares at the hands on his car like they were flies on ice-cream until they are withdrawn. He's used to Ziggy by now. Giant talking rats, not so much. Wait. Why is Zig wearing a dress? Especially an ugly one? That doesn't seem like him, he'd try and find something flattering, or at least with flowers or rainbows or unicorns or something. No wait, Zig would go for the little green dress. "Ranger Black!" Dr. K says from his earpiece. "GIVE. HIM. the. POWER. CELLS." "Oh, right, sorry. Here, Zig," Dillon hands his fellow Ranger a handful of green square things that aren't after-dinner mints. Then he goes back to watching the giant rat. Which just talked to him. Let's just pretend it was yelling at Ziggy just now, and not at him. Because it did NOT just call him 'Knave' like it knew him.
Ziggy Grover	"I've already heard about the hazards of teleporting, thank you very much," Ziggy shudders briefly, recalling Dr. K's quite graphic descriptions of what could possibly go wrong. "I'm used to hearing the words failure..." Tentatively at first, Ziggy returns the smile, taking the letter. "Oh, I sure would. Only two towns over? Thanks. I'm out of energy, so... Dillon, you're a life-saver!" Taking ahold of the energy cells, Ziggy plugs one into the morpher, which hums a bit. This is followed by a "RANGER SERIES OPERATOR GREEN, RETURN. NOW." "Nice to hear from you too, Doc. I got to drop this letter off first, though..." "RETURN." Wincing, Ziggy looks towards Dillon. "... can I hitch a ride back with you, or do I have to walk all the way over to the next time? C'mon, you heard the Doc, I got to get back soon. You're not going to tell me it'll do me good to exercise, are you?"
Faruja	The talking rat glares with the force of a thousand suns. Or at least a very, very irritated ratman. Yes, Dillon, he just called you a knave. Inquisitors can b jerks, just ask Ziggy. "...Faram, I need a drink. Just be bloody careful, and doth not run into any Churches or statues of Saint Ajora?" Ahh, fear from a newly minted teleportation user. Good. It's always the smart ones that end up /not/ killing themselves. Damnit, Ziggy, and faruja was just in a good Inquisitorial mood too. He swats the young man hard on the back, laughing. "As a vetted Time Mage of over twelve years, allow me to offer ye this advice; any teleport ye walk away from in one piece is the farthest thing from failure. Practice, Ser Grover. It shall come to ye." A bow. "Go with the Lord, both of ye!" Then, poof! Faruja's again sitting in front of Marrik. The rat clears his throat. "Mine apologies, Ser Marrik, where were we? Dealing with a little 'issue' from yesterday."
Dillon	"It would," Dillon says about the exercise thing, "but you _really_ need a bath, and a clean dress." He looks at the giant rat again, arms crossed. Dillon is leaning on his car; it's _his_ car so he's allowed. "You too," Dillon says, quirking an eyebrow. Go with God. Sure, why not? He looks at the envelope Ziggy's still carrying and shrugs. Stopping by a mailbox, also why not. He gets back in the car, Ziggy will have to work his own door handle, and once they're aboard and away, driving a sedate 20MPH through a pothole minefield, he asks. "Zig, you sure you didn't want to introduce me to your friend? Or is this another Fresno Bob sitch?"
Marrik	Marrik had somehow managed to remain stone faced in spite of the antics. No it would not look good to be doubled over laughing at your new boss. "I think it was more discussing finer details of work expected." While Faruja had been busy he ordered refills and shook his head slowly. '"Do believe first order of business is figuring these mages out. For pretty obvious reasons," He began as his tone shifted to something more acadimic, "my teachers never bothered with creating bodies other than, well... creating bodies." The unamused look on his face spoke volumes of his disapproval of such, or at least he hoped so. "On the one hand no muss no fuss turn on and aim at thimg you want torched. On the other this is.... worse. Creating life and somehow fueling it with very potent magics to act as disposible troops with no thought or care for the mages themselves."
Ziggy Grover	"Hey, it's not a dress, it's a -robe-," Ziggy reponds, as he gets into the car. Fishing around for a lollipop in the glove compartment, Ziggy pops one into his mouth without even waiting for Dillon to approve of him raiding his stash, before he coughs, shaking his head. "Oh, that... that was Faruja. He's, um... he's not a bad guy, but he's very, very strict. You should've seen his -expression- when I saved the general on the other side of the war. But you know, I'm never -wrong- about these things." There was a brief pause, before Ziggy breaks down. "You should've seen her, Dillon. She looked -sad-. Right before she unleashed a cherry blossom attack." Pause. "... You know what, just stop by the mailbox, right there, and we'll go home and... you know, we need to do something about that fridge. The pulse cannon in there -has- got to go. I'd like to be able to obtain food in peace without being surprised by a -test-. You're with me on this, right, buddy...?"
Faruja	"Quite." Siiip. How thoughtful! Maybe this /isn't/ the worst idea Faruja's ever come up with. "Despite the obvious, sickening level of impiety such a creation shows, 'tis a sound idea militarily. Disposable troops that follow every order without question. 'tis much of the success Alexandria hath gained. A more standard military 'twould hath been kept from burmecia's higher streets in time for Lindblum reinforcements." Snort. burmecian pride, go. "I hath a perfect place in mind to...investigate the creature once we capture one. The question is? Where. I only pray Lady Kinomoto's magic is as powerful as appears."
Marrik	"Millitarily sound, but heartless and stomach churning." Marrik looked at his teacup thoughtfully. "Want to bet their magic comes from the same pool that animates them? After all who cares if they keel over right?" It would make for a simpler design too if they couldn't generate their own life. He hated it, worst of all because of how.... empty even in death they seemed. "I would like to see this place, and is there a good way to stow the bodies long term? I may not like reanimation, but if I can test the bodies in different ways and have your people handle dissections that might get us somewhere." Of course he was asking members of the cloth to work woth someone raising a zombie and /not/ losing their lunch. He frowned on realizing this and shook his head, "Or just compare several specimens against eachother to see if we can figure out how they were made, since summoned creatures, if I saw correct, are pure constructs, but these leave meaty shells behind."
Faruja	"Agreed." Faruja shudders. Did he just agree with a necromancer? The rat desperately tries to banish the thought. "Slaves to uncaring masters." Faruja spits on the ground. Slavers are something he can't abide. his tail flicks. "There art prisoner cells suited to the task." They'll need a good cleaning. Cecelia's been using them, after all. "Quite correct. Holy Espers truly reside within Heaven, acting alongside His angelic host as messengers to we mortals. However, a Summoner whom hath gained their acknowledgement is able to form a construct of pure magick, and using their connection to that high realm, art able to bring forth a measure of contact between magick and Esper. In other places, such as natural wellsprings of magick, they may at times choose to form something of an abode, whereupon a shrine in their honor is oft created." Then, the rat stands, frowning as he touches his ear. "...I am afraid I must cut this meeting a touch short, Ser Marrik. Politics loom, I am needed before the Marquis' marshal. Stay safe. And discrete." A bow, and after paying, the rat's off towards the Keep.
Marrik	The bow was returned, "I am easy to reach, and my door always open." Marrik actually found it easy to like Faruja. After all for an inquisitor of the church he was able to deal with practicle matters. Politics thougg. Marrik shudderrd, he wouldnt wish that on anyone.